- Wastelands, Cyan - Five Pebble's Mistake
- Industrial, Blue - The Mask Factory
- Shore (Moon), Yellow - Sliver of Straw's News
- Shore (Bridge), Purple - Iterators and Water
- Sky Islands, Dark Blue - {Random chatlog}
- Sky Islands, Dark Purple - {Random chatlog}
- Farm Arrays, Red - Poem on the 4th Urge
- Farm Arrays, Red - With Great Thanks, Etc.
- Shaded Citadel, Dark Red Purple - Remains of Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel
- Outskirts, Silver - Mantras
- Sewer, Dark Blue - Ambition
- Chimney Canopy, Gold - Illegal Information
- Subterraean, West - Sending an Overseer
- Subterraean, East - Void Fluid
- Exterior, Top - Unacceptable Situation
...
...is this reaching you?
A little animal, on the floor of my chamber. I think I know what you are looking for.
You're stuck in a cycle, a repeating pattern. You want a way out.
Know that this does not make you special - every living thing shares that same frustration. From the microbes in the processing strata to me, who am, if you excuse me, godlike in comparison.
The good news first. In a way, I am what you are searching for. Me and my kind have as our purpose to solve that very oscillating claustrophobia in the chests of you and countless others. A strange charity - you the unknowing recipient, I the reluctant gift. The noble benefactors? Gone.
The bad news is that no definitive solution has been found. And every moment the equipment erodes to a new state of decay. I can't help you collectively, or individually. I can't even help myself.
For you, though, there is another way. The old path. Go to the west past the Farm Arrays, and then down into the earth where the land fissures, as deep as you can reach, where the ancients built their temples and danced their silly rituals. The mark I gave you will let you through.
Not that it solves anyone's problem but yours.
At the end of time none of this will matter I suppose, but it would be nice if you took another way out. One free of...frolicking in my memory arrays. There is a perfectly good access shaft right here.
That's all. You'll have to go now.
Strange...
Something still draws me here. Even after all this time.
The weather is so different now, but the fields...
I do not need eyes to know that the grasses still sway gently in the winds.
To have grasped at the boundless infinites of the cosmic void...
Yet here I am contemplating these same fields as I once did, talking to some sort of rodent.
We can feel your presence, little creature.
Your attunement has become... much closer to ours.
The mark you received is an unimaginable gift.
The struggle, the cycles...
It can all fade, like a morning mist beneath the glory of the sun.
We found a way.
A little beast!
But not as dim as the rest, perhaps?
So down into the depths you go as many others before you, drawn to the void again and again, an endless drip drip drip.
Much like these tunnels and caves that amuse me so. The bones of forgotten civilisations, heaped like so many sticks.
Did they dig too deep, or not deep enough?
Fools. We were right to drill straight through them!
Hello, little creature.
What are you? If I had my memories, I would know...
You must be very brave to have made it all the way here. But I'm sorry to say your journey here is in vain.
As you can see, I have nothing for you. Not even my memories.
Or did I say that already?
I see that someone has given you the gift of communication. Must have been Five Pebbles, as you don't look like you can travel very far...
He's sick, you know. Being corrupted from the inside by his own experiments. Maybe they all are by now, who knows. We weren't designed to transcend and it drives us mad.
It is good to have someone to talk to after all this time! The scavengers aren't exactly good listeners. They do bring me things though, occasionally...
I am grateful - the relief is indescribable!
...
I could read a bit of Five Pebbles in this neuron before formatting it. His condition has severely deteriorated since last I heard of him. The frustration he feels is profound, and that angst has seeped into every part of him, every neuron.
We were supposed to help everyone, you know. Everything. That was our purpose: a great gift to the lesser beings of the world. When facing our inability to do so, we all reacted differently. Many with madness.
Some, out there, might still be trying. Communications have been bad for a long time, and by now I suspect most of us are isolated like me, or connected only in small groups.
But even back when we were all more or less connected there were those who reacted to their task with anger. I can only imagine they are angrier now, alone in their cans, left only with their insatiable drive.
But to be honest, I don't know how many of us are still alive at this point.
This information is illegal. Someone probably tried to send it by a pearl somehow rather than risking being overheard on broadcast.
I think the risk of you acting on this is very slim, so I'll go ahead and explain it to you. It's an instruction on how to circumvent the self-destruction taboo.
The problem with breaking taboos is that the barriers are encoded into every cell of our organic parts. And there are other taboos strictly regulating our ability to rewrite our own genome.
So what you need is to somehow create a small sample of living organic matter which can procreate and act on the rest of your organic matter to re-write its genome. The re-write has to be very specific, overriding the specific taboo you want to circumvent but do nothing else.
The method described here is about scrambling the genome of standard plastic neural tissue with temperature fluctuations. After each scramble you browse the resulting cells for the genome you're after. This is of course extremely time consuming, unless you run a big number of parallel processes.
I definitely don't have any experience with this, but to me it would seem that too many parallel processes would be quite dangerous, as it would be exponentially more difficult to manage and control them all. The whole operation seems rather risky if you ask me.
It might be a good thing that this pearl never reached its destination.
This one is just plain text. I will read it to you.
"On regards of the (by spiritual splendor eternally graced) people of the Congregation of Never Dwindling Righteousness, we Wish to congratulate (o so thankfully) this Facility on its Loyal and Relished services, and to Offer our Hopes and Aspirations that the Fruitful and Mutually Satisfactory Cooperation may continue, for as long as the Stars stay fixed on their Celestial Spheres and/or the Cooperation continues to be Fruitful and Mutually Satisfactory."
"It is with Honor I, Eight Suns-Countless Leaves, of the House of Six Wagons, Count of no living blocks, Counselor of 2, Duke of 1, Humble Secretary of the Congregation of Never Dwindling Righteousness, write this to You."
"We hope that the Crops are healthy, and that the Productivity with which your Facility is Blessed, leads (as it often does) to further Prosperity. May Not as long as the Stars stay fixed on their Celestial Spheres Grey Hand, Impure Blood, Inheritable Corruption, Parasites, or malfunction settle in Your establishment."
"Leaning on the Solid Foundation of our Long Running Fruitful and Mutually Satisfactory Cooperation, we will take the liberty of stating The Reason for this Message ~ we write to Warmly thank You for yet Another Timely and Appreciated delivery of your Product (Nectar) to our Community (Congregation of Never Dwindling Righteousness). Our humble Words can never Aspire to Describe our gratitude."
"Sincerely..." And then the name and titles again.
It's a confirmation to an automated farming plot that a shipment of beverages has arrived.
It's a Small Plate, a little text of spiritual guidance. It's written by a monk called Four Cabinets, Eleven Hatchets. It's old, several ages before the Void Fluid revolution.
Like most writing from this time it’s quite shrouded in analogies, but the subject is how to shed one of the five natural urges which tie a creature to life. Namely number four, gluttony.
It is basically an instruction on how to starve yourself on herbal tea and gravel, but disguised as a poem.
Now of course when Void Fluid was discovered these methods proved obsolete, as it was more easy just jumping in a vat of it to effortlessly leave this world behind.
There were some horror stories though... That if your ego was big enough, not even the Void Fluid could entirely cross you out, and a faint echo of your pompousness would grandiosely haunt the premises forever.
So even when the Void Fluid baths became cheaper, some would still starve and drink the bitter tea.
This one... is authored by Five Pebbles, when he was young. There has been an attempt to scramble the data, but it's sloppily done, and most is still somewhat legible.
It's written in internal language, or thoughts, so it is hard for me to translate so you would understand. It's a methodology for global ascension of course - quite good, although the Peripherists or the Slab Mongers certainly wouldn't agree!
"...considering the eight and the twenty sixth amendments to the Capricious Dogma, we are apparently supposed to take for granted that a meaning collector point inversion is the only way to approach what has later become referred to as 'noise milking' (or occasionally 'rock swatting'). I will argue my disagreement with this, not in regards to kind but in regards to..." Could it say... "volume"? Actually, are you getting anything out of this?
I suppose you found this in his waste department? I would be wary of going there - on his first fit of corruption he dumped a lot of infected material there, and if it has survived it could easily eat a little creature like you. Not that it would be as dangerous as going into Pebbles himself...
Also the pearls in the waste masses inevitably attract scavengers, which can be very dangerous when provoked.
But, you seem to have made it out of there.
It's a production record of a mask factory, for what seems to be its last time in service. Have you seen a bone mask? Likely not, they are all gone with their owners.
In ancient times the masks were actually about showing spiritual persuasion - covering the face as a way to symbolically abate the self. Then of course, that was quite subverted as excessively ornate and lavish masks became an expression of identity. Some public persons did have problems with narrow doorways.
Originally monks in a temple would make the masks using bone plaster, and when the production was automated it would generally remain on the same site. So that the old stones could... radiate the material with holiness, I suppose.
This is from one such facility called Side House, which was here on Pebble's grounds. In the iterator projects many old industrial-religious sites like this were remodeled and incorporated. I think this one was made to provide pellets of holy ash to Pebbles, but knowing him he probably hasn't used much of it!
Interesting... This one is written by me.
It's about an iterator called Sliver of Straw. I don't remember when I wrote it... Do you know Sliver of Straw? She's quite legendary among us.
Sliver of Straw is the only one to ever broadcast a specific signal: that the Big Problem we're all working on has been solved. The triple affirmative - affirmative that a solution has been found, affirmative that the solution is portable, and affirmative that a technical implementation is possible and generally applicable. She's also one of few that has ever been confirmed as exhaustively incapacitated, or dead. We do not die easily.
Sliver of Straw sent this and the ensuing commotion was historically unparalleled, before or after. I still remember it. But... nothing happened - except that Sliver of Straw was apparently dead. When the dust settled we were all still there blinking at each other.
Everyone had a theory. Some said that she did have a solution, but that the solution itself was somehow dangerous. These later became known as the Triangulators, who think that a solution should be inferred without being directly discovered.
Some said she never had a solution, she just died. And when the systems broke down an erroneous signal was sent.
One camp claimed that dying was the solution.
Either way, after that these different factions developed, as well as a huge forensic effort to recreate and simulate Sliver of Straw's last moments. Some of the simulations were wrapped in a simulation wrapped in a simulation, in case something dangerous might happen. Nothing much has come from it.
In my essay I make the case that maybe she should be allowed to rest in peace now.
This one is an old conversation between Five Pebbles and a friend of his. I'll read it to you.
"1591.290 - PRIVATE Five Pebbles, Seven Red Suns
FP: Can I tell you something? Lately...
FP: I'm tired of trying and trying. And angry that they left us here. The anger makes me even less inclined to solve their puzzle for them. Why do we do this?
SRS: Yes, I'll spell this out - not because you're stupid or naive... Also, not saying that you're not ~
FP: Please, I'm coming to you for guidance.
SRS: Sorry, very sorry. I kid. Fact is, of course we are all aware of the evident futility of this Big Task. It's not said out loud but if you were better at reading between the lines there's nowhere you wouldn't see it. We're all frustrated.
FP: So why do we continue? We assemble work groups, we ponder, we iterate and try. Some of us die. It's not fair.
SRS: Because there's not any options. What else CAN we do? You're stuck in your can, and at any moment you have no more than two alternatives: Do nothing, or work like you're supposed to.
SRS: An analogy. You have a maze, and you have a handful of bugs. You put the bugs in the maze, and you leave. Given infinite time, one of the bugs WILL find a way out, if they just erratically try and try. This is why they called us Iterators.
FP: But we do die of old age.
SRS: Even more incentive! You know that nothing ever truly dies though, around and around it goes. Granted, our tools and resources get worse over time - but that is theoretically unproblematic, because in time even a miniscule chance will strike a positive. All the same to them, they're not around anymore!
FP: I struggle to accept being a bug."
Oh, this one is all plain text. It's an excerpt from an Iterator conversation group.
"1650.787 - CLOSED GROUP [SLIVEROFOCEAN] SliverOfOcean group, all participants anonymous
UU: Hah! I wouldn't necessarily disagree!
NGI: SLIVER OF STRAW WAS A TRAITOR TO THE CAUSE
NGI: SLIVER OF STRAW BROKE THE SELF-DESTRUCTION TABOO
UU: How did this idiot get in here? Kick them out ~
NGI:
EP: I think they had a point.
UU: Hahaha really? Elaborate!
EP: It was definitely coming from an idiotic state of mind, but there is something to it. Why is it, that even in a closed sliverist group, the self-destruction taboo is held so high - while Sliver of Straw herself evidently is not among us anymore?
HF: Wait now...
EP: I'm just saying that for all the research we are doing, all the theories we have, it's strange that we leave this path untrod.
EP: It is not a new idea, but it needs to be vented occasionally. What if there is no universal solution? What if perception is in fact existence, and when Sliver of Straw sent the triple positive it was not a mistake? What if crossing oneself out, or even just death, is the way? We need to consider the possibility."
It's an old conversation log. I seem to be in it, but I can't recall much. Let me read it to you:
"1650.800 - PRIVATE Five Pebbles, Chasing Wind, Big Sis Moon, No Significant Harassment
CW: this is in confidence, but apparently a pseudonym "Erratic Pulse" has appeared on a nearby Sliverist conversation with ideas about personal ascension. Someone here in our vicinity is trying to cross themselves out.
FP: Where did you hear this?
NSH: I wish them super good luck in that endeavor. How is it going to happen? Have the overseers gnaw through bedrock until their entire can crashes down in the void sea?
BSM: Please be respectful when speaking of the Void Sea. Grey Wind, where did you hear this?
CW: I really shouldn't say. He's going to attempt some sort of breeding program. Thought you might want to know.
NSH: Haha with the slimers, lizards and etceteras? Surely the answer was in a lizard skull all along!
CW: Well, he's not looking for the same thing as we anymore, he's changed his task, so who knows really.
BSM: I will try to find him and talk to him. Please don't spread this around!
NSH: Moon will go get them! Long live the inquisition!"
It's me writing to the local iterator group. I have no memories of this...
"1654.110 - PUBLIC Big Sis Moon to Local Group
BSM: Two cycles ago, my neighbor Five Pebbles drastically increased his water consumption to four times the normal amount. He has been unresponsive for a period of time longer than that. The two of us share groundwater, and I have been without water for almost a cycle.
BSM: Any attempts at communication have been met with complete silence, and my situation is becoming increasingly dangerous.
BSM: I ask the local group for information about when you were last able to contact him, and to try to use those same communication channels again, repeatedly until you get a response. I will be clear on this - if he is not persuaded to stop whatever it is he's doing, I will die.
BSM: Before that happens, I will utilize my seniority privilege and use forced communications, hoping to shake him out of it. Forced communications in the network will be unpleasant for all, and I will wait as long as possible before I turn to that option."
And now here I am, to my waist in water and getting drowned on the regular.
I remember this. It isn't pleasant reading. But if you must hear it, this is what it says:
"1654.116 - PRIVATE [FORCED]
Big Sis Moon. Five Pebbles
BSM: Immediately lower your groundwater consumption to one fifth of the current intake.
BSM: Stop whatever it is you are doing.
BSM: Please stop!
BSM: As your local group senior I order you you you you you you
BSM: As your senior senior I plead
BSM: stop
Five Pebbles: You could not have chosen a worse moment to disturb me. You have ruined everything.
BSM: please
Five Pebbles: I almost had it. I will never forget this."
It's a Small Plate, a little text of spiritual guidance. It's written by a monk called Four Cabinets, Eleven Hatchets. It's old, several ages before the Void Fluid revolution.
Like most writing from this time its quite shrouded in analogies, but the subject is how to shed one of the five urges which tie a creature to life. Namely number four, gluttony.
It is basically an instruction on how to starve yourself on herbal tea and gravel, but disguised as a poem.
Now of course when Void Fluid was discovered these methods proved obsolete, as it was more easy just jumping in a vat of it to effortlessly leave this world behind.
There were some horror stories, though... That if your ego was big enough, not even the Void Fluid could entirely cross you out, and a faint echo of your pompousness would grandiosely haunt the premises forever.
So even when the Void Fluid baths became cheaper, some would still starve and drink the bitter tea.."
"On regards of the (by spiritual splendor eternally graced) people of the Congregation of Never Dwindling Righteousness, we Wish to congratulate (o so thankfully) this Facility on its Loyal and Relished services, and to Offer our Hopes and Aspirations that the Fruitful and Mutually Satisfactory Cooperation may continue, for as long as the Stars stay fixed on their Celestial Spheres and/or the Cooperation continues to be Fruitful and Mutually Satisfactory."
"It is with Honor I, Eight Suns-Countless Leaves, of the House of Six Wagons, Count of no living blocks, Counselor of 2, Duke of 1, Humble Secretary of the Congregation of Never Dwindling Righteousness, write this to You."
"We hope that the Crops are healthy, and that the Productivity with which your Facility is Blessed, leads (as it often does) to further Prosperity. May Not as long as the Stars stay fixed on their Celestial Spheres Grey Hand, Impure Blood, Inheritable Corruption, Parasites, or malfunction settle in Your establishment."
"Leaning on the Solid Foundation of our Long Running Fruitful and Mutually Satisfactory Cooperation, we will take the liberty of stating The Reason for this Message ~ we write to Warmly thank You for yet Another Timely and Appreciated delivery of your Product (Nectar) to our Community (Congregation of Never Dwindling Richteousness). Our humble Words can never Aspire to Describe our gratitude."
"Sincerely..." And then the name and titles again.
It's a confirmation to an automated farming plot that a shipment of beverages has arrived.
It's about the local aquifer - it must be quite old, from when Five Pebbles was in the planning phase.
Water is the most important resource for our basic function. Most of our processing is outsourced to microbe strata which need a flow of clean water or else slag builds up, our processes seize, and eventually we die. It is... very painful. They used to say that an iterator drinks a river, but neither of us two have seen a natural river so I suppose the analogy is lost on us, little creature!
Originally water supply was very important when placing iterators. Later there would be a great equalizer - the fact that we breathe out as much vapor as we inhale water led to there being water available everywhere, and the latest few generations could be placed almost completely freely.
Building Pebbles so close to me was believed to be a risky choice, but the groundwater was finally deemed as sufficient. It was not a good decision, in hindsight.
Oh this one is interesting. You must have found it in the memory crypts? It has some plain text, I can read it out to you.
"In this vessel is the living memories of Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel, of the House of Braids, Count of 8 living blocks, Counselor of 16, Grand Master of the Twelfth Pillar of Community, High Commander of opinion group Winged Opinions, of pure Braid heritage, voted Local Champion in the speaking tournament of 1511.090, Mother, Father and Spouse, Spiritual Explorer and honorary member of the Congregation of Balanced Ambiguity. Artist, Warrior, and Fashion Legend.
Seventeen Axes, Fifteen Spoked Wheel nobly decided to ascend in the beginning of 1514.008, after graciously donating all (ALL!) earthly possessions to the local Iterator project (Unparalleled Innocence), and left these memories to be cherished by the carnal plane.
The assorted memories and qualia include:
Watching dust suspended in a ray of sun (Old age). Eating a very tasty meal (Young child). Defeating an opponent in a debate contest, and being applauded by fellow team members (Late childhood/Early adulthood).
..."
...and the list goes on. I'm sorry, little creature, I won't read all of this - the list is six hundred and twenty items long.
Its entire memory is filled with a mantra repeated... 5061 times - and then a termination verse. It was worn as an amulet, probably together with many identical others forming a pattern on some garment.
The repeating mantra is important because it symbolizes the cyclical nature of life and death, and the termination verse is a symbol for ascension above and beyond it. I don't know how familiar you are with the nature of life and death, but I imagine like all living creatures you have some intuitive knowledge?
Then you know that death isn't the end - birth and death are connected to each other like a ring, or some say a spiral. Some say a spiral that in turn forms a ring. Some ramble in agonizing longevity. But the basis is agreed upon: like sleep like death, you wake up again - whether you want to or not.
This is true for all living things, but some actually break the cycle. That doesn't apply to you or me though, you are too entangled in your animal struggles, and for me not breaking that cycle is an integral part of the design. Our mantras keep repeating
It's an old text. The verses are familiar to me, but I don't remember by whom they were written. The language is very old and intricate.
The first verse starts by drawing a comparison between the world and a tangled rug. It says that the world is an unfortunate mess. Like a knot, the nature of its existence is the fact that the parts are locking each other, none able to spring free.
Then as it goes on the world becomes a furry animal hide, I suppose... because now us living beings are like insects crawling in the fur. And then it's a fishing net, because the more we struggle and squirm, the more entangled we become.
It says that only the limp body of the jellyfish cannot be captured in the net. So we should try to be like the jellyfish, because the jellyfish doesn't try.
This was an eternal dilemma to them - they were burdened by great ambition, yet deeply convinced that striving in itself was an unforgivable vice. They tried very hard to be effortless. Perhaps that's what we were to them, someone to delegate that unrestrained effort to.
I know I have tried very hard.
1681.662 - PRIVATE Seven Red Suns, Chasing Wind
CW: Have you had any contact with Five Pebbles recently?
SRS: Not in a long while actually! Unless worrying about him counts.
CW: One of his neighbors, Unparalleled Innocence, sent an overseer to his can and got some images. They were made public in the local group, in an effort to be mean I suppose. There's no other way of putting it - he looks awful.
SRS: Tell me.
CW: He's got the rot, very badly. Big cysts have become mobile and are scattering down the west and middle legs. He does listen to you, and few others by now, so you should talk to him.
SRS: I will try to contact him. Does Moon know?
CW: Moon has been unavailable for some time.
It's the blueprint for a Void Fluid filtration system. Do you know what Void Fluid is? I think you don't.
If you leave a stone on the ground, and come back some time later, it's covered in dust. This happens everywhere, and over several lifetimes of creatures such as you, the ground slowly builds upwards.
So why doesn't the ground collide with the sky? Because far down, under the very very old layers of the earth, the rock is being dissolved or removed. The entity which does this is known as the Void Sea.
If you drill far enough into the earth you begin encountering a substance called Void Fluid. The deeper you go, the less rock and more Void Fluid. It's believed that there is a point where the rock completely gives way - below that would be the Void Sea.
When that stone you placed on the ground has finally done its time in the sediments, it meets the Void Fluid and is dissolved, leaving the physical world.
My creators, or rather my creators' ancestors, figured out a way to use Void Fluid. Because you can generate energy by creating a vacuum... never mind. Anyways, the Void Fluid drills were what started the big technological leap, but this is very long before I entered this world - so I can only tell you what I remember from priming.
A Void Fluid filtration system is used because if you take Void Fluid from close to the bedrock horizon, it will contain traces of rock and dirt. They bring in dirty fluid and then filter it to increase its purity. The other way is to put a pipe deeper, which works well for some time, but the pipe dissolves. Or is broken by some... force - no one really knows, you don't go down there and come back up.
I hope that satisfied your curiosity, little creature?
"...we will not consider the Current Situation acceptable. Although our community is Blessed with an ever shrinking Population, and we can Almost Glimpse that Glorious moment when the last of us has joined our most Admired peers, we must still (at All Times!) maintain Good Relations with our Iterator.
The Moral Argument: Five Pebbles is our Creation, and we have Parental Obligations towards him. As an Iterator, he is also a Gift of Charity from Us to The World (unable to reach Enlightenment by itself - being composed mostly of Rock, Gas, dull witted Bugs and Microbes - and towards which We thus have Obligations).
The Practical Argument: Despite You being family, I must Beg Forgiveness for the Blunt Vulgarity - but We are (for as long as we Remain) Dependent on Five Pebbles for Water, Nectar, Energy, Void Fluid and All other Vital Resources.
By Now, living on the surface is Laughable.
We are Across the River and have Kicked out the Boat.
I therefor ask you to Do Anything in your Might to stop the House (We both know which House) from Further Obstruction! They have less than forty members on the Council, but still Tilt the spiritual Discourse with Our Iterator in a direction that most obviously Displeases him, and is hardly High Held by anyone in the Community either! We can not Risk this!"
And then there are polite farewells. None of us really miss the times when their cities were populated. Imagine having skin parasites that also ask for advice and have opinions...
I'm sorry, that was disrespectful. They were our parents after all.
It's a schematic for a bolt factory.
I can't make anything out of this pearl. It's just too faded. But there might have been something on it once.
I see a vague memory of a family portrait, painted in the High Classical manner that was famous during the Yellow hegemonic literary dynasty. The portrait is likely a fake, as this style was quite fashionable for aspirational lower caste aristocrats to impress each-other [sic] with. This one does not impress, I assure you.
This is a hallucinogenic plant. They used to call it a 'Wheel Flower'. It became the symbol for enlightenment as it momentarily enables a creature to let go if its carnal self, and to contact the selves of other planes - dreams, memories, imagined worlds. Very long ago, they would eat these and stare into the fire.
https://pastebin.com/BumfGCUY
https://pastebin.com/315TqLpJ
Please add the missing echoes dialogue (they are inside the first pastebin link)
Please refine the Moon dialogue tree (See inside 2nd pastebin link)
The second one is a WIP as I have all the text but it's in the code, so I have to strip away the useless stuff around the text. :')